


Trailblazer

by agrestenoir



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU after Volpina, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Every Corner Representation, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Injury Recovery, Peacock Miraculous, Protect Adrien 2k16, Romance, Secret Identity, Violence, love square
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6368203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agrestenoir/pseuds/agrestenoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Adrien is attacked by Hawkmoth and forced into hiding, all of Paris, including Ladybug, is suddenly gunning for Chat Noir's arrest. But proving his innocence might be more difficult than he intended when he factors in the missing Plagg, the sudden appearance of a Peacock superhero, and the inopportune timing of falling in love with one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.</p>
<p>What's a superhero to do?</p>
<p>Basically Adrien trades in a cat for a peacock, Ladybug might be his enemy, and Marinette is his good luck charm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Adrien had never believed in bad luck until he became Chat Noir.

Even after he bonded with Plagg, he assumed that his luck was no worse—and no better—than anyone else’s. Every staggering setback was more in line to what he couldn’t control versus the vagaries of his own destiny and powers, but the instances kept piling up until he couldn’t ignore what was happening. It was certainly different to what he was used to. After all, he couldn’t exactly deny that he _hadn’t_ gotten lucky with his life: a rich father, a world-wide modeling career, and moonlighting as one half of Paris’s famous superhero duo. In the beginning, he decided that a little bad luck wouldn’t kill him. That soon changed though.

It started when the cameras at his shoots developed an uncanny tendency to break before every take, resulting in one of his father’s regular photographers refusing to work with Adrien anymore. Before he knew it, Nathalie had replaced the lightbulb in his bathroom six times in one month, the chemistry professor had forbidden him from handling glassware, and Nino’s smartphone froze every time Adrien touched it.

Plagg didn’t seem to mind the occurrences. “It comes with the job,” he’d told Adrien as he hovered indecisively over a plate of catered cheese. “You can’t be Chat Noir without a little bad luck.”

But, Adrien wanted to argue, these weren’t just little, isolated instances. Little bouts of bad luck would be when Nino lost his headphones during gym period or Alya’s tablet died before she could upload the latest footage of Ladybug and Chat Noir to her blog. Extremely bad luck was when Marinette came late to class because she lost her shoe to a piece of chewing gum while crossing the street or when Plagg managed to eat all the cheese Adrien carried on his person, including the pieces he hid in the flaps of his shoe for emergency use only.

Adrien’s bad luck was a constant presence that squirmed under his skin as if it were alive, searching for a way out to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting Paris. It threatened his very existence sometimes because he swore it wasn’t a coincidence that a car’s parking brake would break the second he passed in front of it or that the chain for the chandelier in his foyer would snap as soon as he walked under it. Sometimes he wished Plagg had been completely honest the day he became Chat Noir about what the powers of destruction entailed, but then again, even with some curse following him around, the good always outweighed the bad. Besides, the bad luck wasn’t always a life-or-death situation.

Like today, as he stood on the school steps after class dismissed, Adrien knew that sometimes bad luck was as simple as his bodyguard being late. While dark clouds hung heavy in the sky, a thick sheet of rain poured over the city, and thunder and lightning shook the world like an explosion, Adrien took a moment to breathe it all in. Between his bouts of bad luck, he’d learned to find the calm in the calamity… He chuckled wryly at the thought.

A cool breeze blew past, ruffling his messy locks, and he sighed softly. The storm had come in like a bullet, sudden and explosive. It didn’t show signs of stopping any time soon. Glancing down at his cell, Adrien was met with the black screen of a dead battery, and he just shook his head. To say his bad luck manifested at the most inconvenient times was a slight understatement.

“This is all your fault, Plagg,” he said, poking his kwami through his shirt collar.

There was no response, but he felt the small creature squirming against his neck, seeking warmth because he knew they were about to get _drenched._ Resigning himself to a long walk home in the pouring rain, even knowing how much Plagg would moan and groan about the water, Adrien took a step into the stormy weather just as a hand grabbed his wrist to pull him back.

“Marinette?” he asked in surprise because he’d been sure no other students had hung around after class was dismissed else he would have noticed. Waiting for an hour had been a miserable and lonely experience (one he would have gladly shared with _anyone_ ). “I thought you went home already.”

Adrien smiled at his friend, gaze lingering at the hand she was holding tightly, almost as if she was unsure whether to pull him out of the rain or join him in the shower. It’d been quite some time since he’d had a moment alone with his friend, not since her Uncle had come to visit and he’d volunteered to be a translator, so on the rare occasions when his schedule wasn’t taking over his life and she wasn’t distracted, he liked to enjoy the time they had together. Being in public school had changed his life for the better—and the friends he’d made along the way were probably the best part. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was certainly no exception. Her kindness and head-strong personality were some of the traits that drew him to her in the first place, from the way she fended off Chloe and the warmth she’d bestowed upon Nathaniel—there was just something about the girl that he couldn’t let go of.

He was glad to call her his friend.

With a muffled squeak, Marinette realized what she was doing and snatched her hand back as if she’d touched a smoldering iron, clutching it to her chest, and struggled to form a response. “I-I had to talk to Madame Bustier about make-up work,” she said, and he tried not to laugh in face of her numerous absences and tardies (not that his track record was any better). “A-Are you, uhm, are you walking home?”

Adrien shrugged helplessly, a wry smile slipping onto his face. “My ride’s a little late.”

“Take this then,” she said abruptly and held out her black umbrella. “You might need it. It’s raining pretty hard.”

He grasped the handle and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion because he didn’t understand. “Don’t you need it?” He knew Marinette walked home after school—it’s something he’d noticed from his very first day of class after he’d given her his… _oh._

Because that was the thing with luck. It was a matter of fate meeting opportunity, so at times like this, it was better to have bad luck than no luck at all because a luckless life could never create a moment of serendipity.

The rain was pouring harder, but Marinette simply stared at him as she held out her umbrella and waited for him to take it… and that was the thing with Marinette. Any other person would have scurried off, clutching their umbrella, with a quick _good luck_ over their shoulder, but Marinette was the epitome of good luck in a way that a lucky person never could be. She made good luck happen for other people versus leaving them to whatever fate had in store for them with the best intentions.

“Don’t worry about me,” she told him. “I’m fast… a-at running.” (But he distinctly recalled her traipsing into the classroom earlier that day, and when Madame Bustier called her out on her tardiness, she excused her absence on account of being a slow jogger).

Thunder boomed, startling Adrien from his reverie, and he reached out to grab the umbrella from Marinette with a bright smile. “Thanks, Marinette.” He stepped out from under the shelter of the school roof, eyeing the dark sky before turning back to her. “Why don’t you let me walk you home though? That way both of us can stay dry, and I won’t feel bad about stealing your umbrella.”

“With you?” Marinette’s mouth dropped open as she gawked at him. “But you’re too _big_! I mean, the umbrella’s too small, and I’m small, and I’m not calling you fat, but… I mean, the… I’m wet, we’ll get wet, I’m just… I…” She ducked her head in defeat, hands falling into tight fists at her sides as she struggled to control her breathing.

Adrien chuckled, shaking his head because no one in the world could pull a laugh from him like Marinette Dupain-Cheng. “I’ll be fine. Come on, it’s the least I could do.”

He nodded towards her home, recalling the direction from his adventures as Chat Noir and the handful of visits as Adrien. There was a moment of silence as Marinette’s thoughts scurried about, and he would bet it was probably a simple question of whether this trip would inconvenience him in any way and what possible outcomes there would be. He knew it was just the type of person his friend was as a forward-thinker, plotting out the path for whenever potential reared its head, and while it had its good and bad points, she still tried to wipe out the bad and leave the good. It was one of the things he admired most about her.

“Come on, Marinette,” he said as lightning flashed and the rain seemed to raise in crescendo. Leveling his gaze with her own, he walked down the steps and stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, almost teasing her with a catlike-smirk slipping onto his lips. “It’s just a walk home. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Fate liked to make a fool out of him. No matter how hard he tried, Adrien Agreste could never escape the fickle finger of fate.

He couldn’t hear the car over the rain, but the engine purred loudly as it blew by, splashing rain water from the deep puddles on the side of the road onto the sidewalk and soaking him in the process. The water ran down his back like an icy hand crawling over his skin as he shivered after the onslaught of the wave, a cool breeze stirring the hairs on his arms, and could ony stand there helplessly. He could feel Marinette’s wide-eyed gaze on him from the top of the steps, so he closed his eyes and dared not to look, willing himself not to brutally murder Plagg at the first chance he got.

The sound of Marinette’s laughter broke through the rain.

Adrien peered up at her from under the umbrella to where she stood at the top of the stairs, head thrown back as giggles spilled from her mouth. When she caught him staring, she froze under his gaze, blue eyes still glittering in amusement, and soon he couldn’t help but join her. Standing on the sidewalk, chilled to the bone with water-sodden clothes, all he could do was laugh. At first, Marinette seemed unsure of what to do, so he held out his hand for her to join him under the umbrella.

“Come on, Marinette, the rain’s not that bad,” he called, and that was all it took. With a breathless smile, she rushed down the steps, nearly tripping in the process, but soon she was right-side up beside him. “You better hold the umbrella since I’m already wet, but with my luck, we’re gonna get struck by lightning anyway.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, fingers brushing the back of his wrist as she reached for the umbrella.

The two began the walk home, rain pouring cold against their skin, even protected by the umbrella. The storm had only grown in intensity while Adrien had waited and had managed to clear all the sidewalks on the way to Marinette’s house. In a city as large as Paris, that was a feat in itself. After a long day of school and misfortune, Adrien was glad he didn’t have to fight against an afternoon crowd of meandering citizens on busy city sidewalks and instead took great joy in the calm that walking home with Marinette brought.

“So spring break starts tomorrow,” Marinette inquired. “Do you have anything planned?”

Adrien shook his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I was thinking of just having Nino come over, but I don’t know. My father’s pretty busy and doesn’t like to be disturbed when he’s working, so usually I just spend break working on homework or something.”

Her eyebrows furrowed together in confusion at his flippant response. “That doesn’t sound like a fun break.”

“It’s alright,” he said simply.

Marinette opened her mouth to say something but bit her lip instead, like she was afraid of his response, so all he could do was wait for her to muster up the courage to get past her block. “Y-You could come over to my house if you want,” she said quietly, unable to meet his wide eyes. “Mama and Papa wouldn’t mind. They love company, and Alya and I are always there anyways. You could bring Nino, and we could have a dinner or something. I don’t know…”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” he murmured quietly, but his heart was throbbing in his chest, begging him to accept it and _maybe, actually_ spend a _break_ with _friends_ for the first time in his life and not the cold, empty mansion his father favored.

“It’s really no problem,” Marinette reassured him. “I don’t have many video games, so you guys might have to bring your own.”

“So you can beat me at those too?” Adrien found himself grinning uncontrollably at her suggestion. “Yeah, I-I’d love that though. I need to ask my father first, but I’m down for that.” For the first time in a long time, he was actually looking _forward_ to his break from school.

A crack of thunder shuddered the world as a strike of lightning sliced through the sky, startling Adrien from his exuberance, and he tried not to squirm in response. Even before he’d become Chat Noir, cat-like tendencies and all, he had never really liked the rain.

“You okay?” Marinette asked quietly, like a petty whisper caught in a howling wind, and he had to strain to hear it—even the soft pause between her words.

“What can I say?” he said and flicked away the wet fringe plastered against his forehead, anything to stop the rivets of water from trailing into his eyes. “I _really_ don’t like the rain.” 

Marinette giggled again, and as they passed by a shop, he stole a glance at his reflection in the large window and realized way. His soaked clothing hung off his frame like a large overcoat, hair wet against his skin and curling into fluffy waves in places where the water had already dried, and his whole body dripped miserable puddles onto the damp cement.

“Just my luck,” he muttered, “I look like a drowned cat.”

“Why don’t you like the rain?” she asked, cocking her head to the side as if to study him.

Adrien wiggled his toes in his shoes, wincing at _squish-squish_ of his water-laden socks. “My father gave me two options for extracurricular activities when I was younger: swimming or fencing.”

“You chose fencing,” Marinette supplied without prompting, eyes flickering across his face for an answer to a question he didn’t know she was asking. When she seemed to find it, the tension dropped from her shoulders, and the umbrella went limp in her hands. “Because you don’t like water?”

“I chose swimming actually.”

“But you do fencing now?”

“Cats weren’t made to swim,” he told her, “Nearly drowned my first time in the deep end.”

Her gaze slid across his drenched figure to the umbrella above them, and her lips pressed into a quizzical expression which left him a bit uneasy. His words fell short as the air between them turned heavy under quiet tension and caused anxiety to build in the pit of his stomach. Adrien wondered for a fleeting moment if his joke had sparked suspicion for Marinette and if she had somehow (by some miracle) made a connection between him and Chat Noir. He hoped, for his sake, that wasn’t true. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Marinette because he _did_ , but if Ladybug found out that someone had learned his true identity, she would absolutely _kill_ him.

“You’re right,” Marinette finally said, a teasing edge to her voice. “You really do look like a drowned cat.”

A dark red blush suddenly sprung across her face like she wasn’t sure she had really made that joke, but Adrien was quick to soothe her frazzled nerves, chucking wryly to himself at her words because it _was_ true and he didn’t want to scare this side of Marientte away. For the first time in a long while, his friend was coming out of her shell and showing colors of herself that he’d never seen before.  

“Times like these you wouldn’t believe I modeled.”

“No, you’re a perfect model,” she whispered softly, keeping her eyes trained on her feet as they walked.

It was Adrien’s turn to blush. “ _Oh_ , uhm, thank—”

“Unless the shoot is by the Seine,” she told him seriously.

Adrien stumbled at her words and reached out to grab the door handle of a parked car to steady himself, his body shaking in unbridled laughter. “O-Okay, you win,” he admitted, smile morphing into a full-fledged grin. “Oh god, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard.” The rain drenched him even more, so he shuffled closer to his friend, trying to find some warmth under the umbrella.

“You should laugh more. I like your laugh,” she answered without hesitation, but then with cheeks burning and eyes wide, she slapped a hand over her mouth like she needed to prevent herself from speaking further.

Adrien grabbed her wrist to stop her.

It was probably one of the most honest things he’d ever heard her say, and he couldn’t bear to ruin this moment with Marinette—something he had never knew he’d wanted—where both of them were open and real with each other. Frankly, he hadn’t felt this close to another person except for Ladybug and Nino. Suddenly, he realized he never wanted to lose Marinette. The thought made him feel raw and exposed, like a sputtering live wire.

“Thanks. I like yours too.” His expression softened as her eyes grew wider. Despite his dead phone and soaked clothes, he was happy to have this moment with his friend. He never realized how his bad luck might have something good come out of it.

“A-Anyway.” Marinette cleared her throat. “This is my stop, so I guess…”

_Oh._ Dazed, he looked up and saw the familiar sign of the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery in front of them. Turning back to his friend, he grasped her hand tightly and pressed a quick kiss to the back of it, something he'd only done with Ladybug, as a silent gesture of _thank you for gracing me with your presence._ She stiffened at the touch of his lips on her skin but didn't pull away, and it wasn't until he finally registered what he was doing that he snapped back into place like a spring board, refusing to meet her gaze.  _Yep,_ he thought to himself,  _there goes my secret identity._ Without a second thought, he opened the door for her and ushered her inside, the warmth of the shop and the smell of fresh bread overwhelming him. Still, he was itching to run back out onto the rainy street and its lake of puddles. 

Marinette froze with one hand on the doorframe, looking back over her shoulder, and offered him a hesitant smile. “Would you… like to come in? Papa might have some extra croissants that you could take home.”

Thunder echoed overhead, reverberating through the building, and Adrien shook his head slowly. “I actually do have to get home. Father’s probably worried about me right now.” _If he noticed you were even gone,_ he thought bitterly but plastered a plastic grin on his face. “Thanks for the invite though. Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer later. I’ll see you tomorrow, Marinette.”

Turning on his heel, he let go of the door and headed back for the sidewalk, but Marinette grasped his wrist to stop him, warm against his cool, damp skin. “Don’t forget the umbrella.” She pressed the handle into his hand before he could pull away.

“Thanks, Marinette,” he said, smiling more to himself as the bubble of warmth in his chest grew a little bit bigger. “I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

She shrugged, unable to meet his eyes, and fingered the hem of her blazer. “Don’t worry about it,” she told him, “It’s yours anyway.”

“What do you mean?” he asked

Marinette shifted in the doorway, finally looking at him, and her summer sky eyes bore into him painfully as if she could see everything he was in one glimpse. A quiet intimate moment passed between them before she grinned and looked down at the umbrella in his hands. If he closed his eyes, he remembered one rainy afternoon on his first day of school where he and his classmate got off on the wrong foot.

“I think I know,” he noted warmly, and it was enough for Marinette to flick her wrist in a silent goodbye and turn back towards the bakery, shutting the door behind her.

He tightened his grip on the umbrella handle until he could feel his pulse under his own fingers, thudding in time with his own heartbeat, and swallowed the thick lump in his throat. Funny, he thought to himself, he hadn’t felt this way since before his mother had disappeared. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint what he was feeling— _happy, worthy, cared for, loved_ … It was different from the brother Nino had turned out to be, more in line with the way he loved Ladybug, and he could see the similarities between his partner and his friend. But Marinette was entirely different in ways that Ladybug never could be—softer around the edges with her quiet kindness and small smiles—and he didn’t know if that was better or worse.

Regardless, he turned on his heel and began the long trek back home, lost in his own thoughts of the enigma of Ladybug and his friend Marinette. Even with his bad luck, he reckoned, it had turned out to be a good day after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the next chapter! Originally, this was supposed to be included in the first chapter, but it ended up being split so this should be the final chapter that sets up the beginning. Special thank you to CaptainOzone for her help on finishing this chapter! You guys are feel free to check out my blog, http://agrestenoir.tumblr.com/, for any questions regarding to fic or anything such as that. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and stay tuned for the real action <3

Attending public school, Adrien realized as he stepped through the front door, was both the best and worst thing to happen this year.

It was great that he got to experience what it was like to be a normal guy for once in his life, something he hadn’t felt since his mom left, and suffer through all the trials and tribulations that accompanied a fifteen-year-old in the real world. He spent most of his time with his best friend, Nino, who quite frankly, was one of the best people Adrien had ever met (a part of him always wondered if Nino’s presence was what having a brother would have been like). The classes were much more invigorating and exciting with different teachers to learn from and so many peers to interact with.

The only downside was the crazies that sometimes lurked in the shadows, leering at him because he was renowned fashion model Adrien AgresteTM , and the thought of their eyes constantly watching his every move was enough to send icy shivers shuddering down his spine. Overall, though, he wished he’d been privileged enough to have attended public school his whole life, and nothing really ever challenged that idea.

Except for his father.

To Adrien, the idea of having freedom, living outside the dark walls of the Agreste property, seemed to be Gabriel Agreste’s biggest fear. It started shortly after Adrien’s mother disappeared on a cold, December morning when he was twelve, and which only worsened as time went on. Gabriel became more distance from his son, as if spending even a second longer or traveling across Europe. In his stead, he left behind his stoic personal assistant, Nathalie, the household staff, and a lonely little boy who missed his mother and wished for nothing more than his father to come home. He stayed away but kept Adrien under lock and key, and Adrien always assumed it was to keep him safe. It quickly changed into the idea that Gabriel was trying to prevent his son from leaving just like his mother.

Therefore, Adrien spent the rest of his childhood trying to be the son that his father could be proud of, quickly learning what the limits were and the golden expectations set before him. Once the rules of the game were defined, he plastered them on a plaque in his head, vowing to never break them, because he didn’t want the rare emotion his father shared with him to be disappointment. So through the forgotten birthdays, never-mentioned Christmases, and the nonexistent anniversaries, Adrien kept his father happy, and his father stayed away.

But then he turned fifteen, when Plagg and his destiny reared their ugly heads, and he just couldn’t take it anymore. He begged and pleaded just to get out, go to school and make friends, because he was tired of being Rapunzel. More than anything, he wanted to be the Mulan of the story, going off to battle to protect his father, and maybe show Gabriel Agreste that the world wasn’t the scary place he thought it to be.

Things didn’t turn out like he planned though. His bad luck reared its ugly head yet again, and Adrien finally realized that his life was slightly more complicated than he’d originally thought it to be.

Up until then, the most troubling things he dealt with were maintaining his double life as Chat Noir and trying to make Ladybug fall in love with him (which was damn near impossible considering no one could make that girl do anything she didn’t want to). When he walked into Gabriel Agreste’s study, the biggest worry on his mind was if his father would grant him permission to join Marinette and their friends at the bakery, despite any other scheduling conflicts he might have. He wasn’t concerned with the fact that his father, who worked long hours and spent more time with his personal assistant than his own son, could have ulterior motives to working late into the night in a closed-off wing of the mansion.

Ever since his mother had disappeared, Adrien knew better than to disturb Gabriel while he was working. The man had fallen out of a relationship with his wife and in love with a busy schedule, distance, and the gnawing fear that his son would leave him too. But being Chat Noir meant that Adrien was no longer a child because he understood how the world worked in more ways than his father imagined, and he could handle asking the man a simple question.

Fate wouldn’t have it that way, though.

Being Chat Noir entailed Adrien to his bouts of bad luck—and it wasn’t going to change anytime soon. The late driver and the thunderstorm were only the tip of the iceberg, and he should have realized that when his father wasn’t standing in the foyer to chew him out for his tardiness and lack of responsibility. Something was wrong.

The vacant study should have been the first clue that things were not as they seemed. In fact, as he glanced around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of blonde hair or the flutter of a tan jacket, he tried not to notice the dust-caked desk or the way he choked on the stale air as soon as he opened the door. The fact of the matter was that Adrien hadn’t visited Gabriel in his study in years, the last time being right before his mother disappeared, only told through word of mouth that his father was working and wished not to be disturbed. From the looks of things, it didn’t seem like Gabriel had visited his study in a long time either.

He was painfully reminded of how foolish he’d been not to see the signs.

Adrien was never allowed to wonder through this part of the house, most importantly because Gabriel had forbidden him after his mother left, as this side housed her private library and their shared bedroom. Any memory of her was forcibly scratched from existence in the Agreste mansion. He hadn’t thought his father would wander these halls either, but form the well-worn footprints in the carpet, Adrien knew that _someone_ had been making frequent trips to this area of the house.

He followed the path to the attic, a wrought-iron staircase leading up to the cozy hideaway his mother had once called her own. If he closed his eyes, he could remember snuggling up against her side as they spent a lazy morning watching the sunrise through the huge window, his father humming absently as he worked on some sketches, and his mother laughing as a blue bird danced overhead, twirling in the sunlight, as joyful and free as he felt in that moment. Sometimes Adrien had to pinch himself to prove that those memories weren’t dreams or figments of an akuma-induced illusion. That there was proof that he was once happy, his father once smiled, and his mother was once home.

Muffled whispers trickled from the crack of the open door, and he wondered who could possibly be with his father up there. Nathalie, perhaps? But that didn’t make sense because _no one was allowed to be here._ Gabriel had outright outlawed Adrien from this part of the house, distanced himself from the area, and threatened to fire any staff that came near here. Bracing himself, he climbed the stairs, cocking his ear towards the door in attempt to hear anything that transpired.  He crouched down to peer through the crack upon reaching the doorway, a thin sliver of light falling over his face.

“…please, Master, I don’t know…” The voice was soft, like a quiet breeze amongst a howling wind, nearly drowned out by the silence of it all.

“I don’t understand why this isn’t _working_!” His father’s voice reverberated through the room, and Adrien tried not to startle, as he hadn’t heard his father this angry since he’d tried to sneak out for public school at the beginning of the year. “It’s been nearly a year, dozens of wasted champions, and no Miraculous stones!”

 _...Miraculous stones?_ Adrien furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, unable to gauge the conversation transpiring in front of him. He didn’t have time to contemplate where his father had even heard of Miraculous stones (though the book Gabriel had kept behind his mother’s portrait flashed through his head like a warning) or why he even bothered to learn about their relation to the city’s akuma problem. Instead, he leaned forward and pushed the door open further, breathing out a small sigh of relief that the aged wood didn’t creak under stress, instead trembling like he was.  

The attic was empty save for its two occupants. By now, the thunderstorm had passed over, and the fading sunlight was strewn across the dirt-caked floorboards like a blank canvas from the large window against the far wall, shadows flitting across the picture as dozens of white butterflies danced in the air. Shock flooded Adrien’s body, holding his limbs hostage and his form frozen in the open doorway. He recognized those butterflies, usually flying free after Ladybug released them from her yo-yo. He’d always wondered where an akuma disappeared too after it was purified.

One butterfly fluttered towards him with shaky wings and hovered in front of his eyes as if to say, _hello, I remember you._ Because it seemed to know who he was—as Adrien Agreste and Chat Noir—just as he knew the butterfly for the akuma it could one day become. He recognized it as clearly as the tan jacket his father wore and the distinctive shape of a purple kwami floating beside it. He recognized it in Gabriel’s deep, raspy voice that he’d once heard at the base of Eiffel Tower, threatening _his_ city and all its people, trying to turn the whole world against Chat Noir and Ladybug. He recognized it in the harsh tone of his father’s words, the impatience in his stance, and frustration in his fists. He recognized it in the low hum of the beating butterflies’ wings, growing louder as they swirled and twirled around Gabriel Agreste and his kwami.

The butterflies, the kwami, the Miraculous… _Hawkmoth. It’s Hawkmoth._ His mind was running ragged, and he didn’t _want_ to believe it, _couldn’t_ even, because his father _wasn’t_ his archenemy. The same person who created him but sought to destroy him, the same person who locked him away to protect him but made his life even more dangerous in the grand scheme of things. His father… Oh, _god_. His _father_ had tried to _kill_ him more times than he had ever tried to _hug_ him.

A flash of pain sparked in his chest at the realization because he couldn’t fathom what was right in front of his eyes this whole time… His world turned slippery, so he shook his head, trying to clear the panic from his thoughts. What good would a scared little boy with the weight of Paris on his shoulders do if he collapsed under the strain? Regardless of what was happening, Adrien was sure of six things:

  * His father was Hawkmoth.
  * Hawkmoth was trying to steal his Miraculous.
  * Adrien had a duty to defeat Hawkmoth.
  * He had to tell Ladybug.
  * His father was gone.
  * …He really wanted to go back to Marinette’s.



Most of all he knew he needed time to process what he’d just seen, time to plan and contact Ladybug. He needed time to think, but he wasn’t sure how long it would take. With shaky fingers, he reached for his phone in the pocket of his jeans, intending to snap a picture as evidence for Ladybug, barely remembering that the device had died before the thunderstorm, when a sharp nip sent a sliver of pain up his neck.

 “ _Leave it_ ,” Plagg’s voice hissed in his ear from his place in the collar of Adrien’s shirt. Funny, he had forgotten his kwami was there. “It’s dead anyway, and you need to get _away_ , Adrien, you need to get away _now_.”

Adrien shook his head because, at this point, all he cared about was telling Ladybug, and he was sure his partner would find a solution to the situation as she had never let him down before. He didn’t know what he would do if she couldn’t help him because this was his father, _oh god_ , Hawkmoth was his _father_. His mind was still reeling from the revelation, and every nerve in his body was screaming at him to get away, to listen to Plagg, to run while he still had the chance because it was _Hawkmoth_ who would _kill_ him at the first chance he had… but this was his _father_ who locked him in a huge mansion to _protect_ him from the outside world.

 _He wouldn’t hurt me_ , Adrien tried to reason. _He wouldn’t hurt me. If I talked to him, explained everything, he would listen and—_

 _—but when has he ever listened?_ a voice proposed in the back of his head.

“Adrien, _move_.” Plagg was louder now as hysteria set in, frantic to make him turn around—turn around and flee, run back to the safety of his room or the rooftops of Paris, whatever would get him away from his father. “Please, you can’t stay here.” And since when did Plagg use his _manners_?

Still, Adrien refused to move. He couldn’t. “He’s my father,” he said softly. _Papa,_ he thought desperately.

Plagg bit his shoulder this time, and Adrien silently swatted at him, trying to catch one more glimpse of his father as Hawkmoth before he left. He needed to be absolutely sure before he went running to Ladybug, even if the butterflies and kwami should have been enough to convince him, but he was too afraid to go around with false accusations and fear gnawing at his lungs. He crept further into the room to assuage his bleeding heart, eyes trained on the image of Gabriel Agreste overlooking Paris in a storm of white wings, and swallowed thickly. That was all the proof he needed.

Plagg was shaking in the crook of his neck as Adrien laid an equally trembling hand on his back to comfort the kwami. He had never known his friend to be scared, he hadn’t fathomed the idea actually, but he knew, in that moment, that they were both terrified. Once they’d returned to the safety of his room, they could discuss how to continue from here. Panic settling over him, Adrien shuffled backwards through the open doorway, reaching for the knob to pull the door shut behind him, when the _unthinkable_ happened.

It creaked with a resounding _groan_ , freezing him in his retreat and startling Gabriel from his reverie.

“Adrien,” Gabriel said softly, a stark contrast to the booming voice he’d used to yell at his kwami earlier.

Adrien couldn’t speak. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to stammer out a response, words escaping him as easily as smoke between his fingers, dispersing before they could form. He merely stared at his father, trying to solve a shattered puzzle, trying to make sense of the shambles of his broken world. 

Gabriel pulled himself into a stiff stance, back straight and shoulders square. “W-What are you doing here?” he asked. The slight tremor in his voice was the only sign that Adrien had startled him.

With his heart thundering in his chest and Plagg tugging at his shirt collar, Adrien pushed himself up on shaky legs, casting a quick glance over his shoulder as he reached for the railing. “Nothing,” he gasped out. “N-Noth—”

“Adrien.” It rang out like a gunshot—fast and brutal—and he snapped his head back to his father.

Throat constricting, Adrien whispered under his breath, “I-I was looking for you. I had a q-question about… There was a storm and… I walked, but…” Plagg bit his shoulder again, and he finally registered a burning sensation that shot down him arm because _god damn it, Plagg had sharp teeth._

Gabriel’s expression hardened as he pursed his lips into a thin line, eyes turning stony as he stared at him. “You aren’t supposed to be here,” he told him and took a step towards the door.

A flash of pain rolled down his back this time as Plagg gnawed at his collarbone, trying to pull him from his silent reverie. He reached up to his shoulder, feeling the slick wetness of blood against his fingers from where his kwami had broken the skin, and he hissed as he probed the edges of the wound. Taking a deep breath, he pushed through the pain and grasped the railing tightly as his father came closer.

“Neither are you,” Adrien said slowly as he slid his foot back onto the first wrought-iron step. It groaned under his weight. Gabriel didn’t seem to notice his retreat, instead trained on his son’s pale face with eyes that grew darker every second.  “This is Mom’s place.”

“What I do,” his father said, “is none of your concern.”

 _But it is,_ he wanted to argue. _You’re Hawkmoth, I’m Chat Noir, and this_ matters _._

Adrien tried to gather the courage that he had felt earlier about approaching his father, the courage Marinette had when she faced off against Chloe, the courage Alya had when she followed Chat Noir and Ladybug into battle, the courage he had when he fought akumas. It slipped away like oil in water, resting on the surface instead of sinking down deep into his bones.

“I-It is my concern,” Adrien stuttered and stepped back once more, his foot hovering over empty air. “You’re terrorizing Paris.” 

A strange smile setted over Gabriel’s face. “Ah,” he said softly. “You do know then.”

His father reached for him, and Adrien bodily jerked away, the wrong tilt of his weight sending him stumbling down a couple stairs. He clutched the railing with a white-knuckled grip, trying to calm his racing heart, but fear held a tight grasp on it. He _loved_ his father more than anything else in the world—even more than Ladybug—and as the only parent he had left, he couldn’t bare to lose him. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be scared of the man Gabriel Agreste had turned into—the one who had tried to kill him multiple times on a weekly basis, the one who distanced himself from his teenage son, the one who had hurt a countless number of people and almost destroyed the whole of Paris three times over.

 _It shouldn’t be like this,_ Adrien wanted to say, _I shouldn’t be scared of my father. It shouldn’t be like this. This shouldn’t be happening._

But all he managed was a quiet, “Why are you doing this?”

Gabriel paused in his advance, staring at his son for a short moment, before turning back towards the large bay window, the butterflies swirling with the change in movement. Despite Plagg’s insistant biting, Adrien started to climb back up the stairs and into the room, the faint hope of _making his father see reason_ pounding at the forefront of his mind. Because if there was even a possibility… Well, stopping Hawkmoth had always been on his agenda—he never said _how_ though.

“You don’t remember much about your mother, do you?” Gabriel asked suddenly, causing Adrien to freeze in his ascent.

All Adrien could do was stare at his father though, unable to form a coherent response. He wasn’t sure how to broach the subject considering that up until tonight his mother had been as much of a taboo in the Agreste household as the fact that Adrien saw Nathalie more than his own father in some weeks. His thoughts still wandered aimlessly in his head as he tried to piece together some semblance of an order, anything to understand just _why_ his father was Hawkmoth.

“She disappeared, right?” Adrien’s voice was laced with confusion. “She left.”

It was the truth. His mother was gone, and she hadn’t come back. He’d awakened one December morning to red and blue flashing lights outside his window. Clad with soft slippers and worn pajamas, he dashed down the stairs and into the sitting room, prepared to see his father hunched over the table with a sketchbook and his mother lounging in the corner with a book. Instead, Nathalie greeted him with a thin smile and a short greeting, listening absently as Gabriel talked to two policemen in the corner. Shortly after, his father had pulled him aside and told him his mother had disappeared.

Adrien hadn’t known what to think. He had been twelve, lost, and lonely, and all he’d wanted was his mother who was _gone_ —whatever that meant. Gabriel had never spared him a proper explanation short of what he’d been told that morning, no matter how many times he pestered his father for the truth, until the mere mention of her was banned from the household. As the days went on, Adrien wondered what had happened to his mother, if she had been taken or left on her own accord. Perhaps she had went for a walk and got into an accident, a victim of amnesia with a cold case burning in the back of a police station. When the nights were particularly hard and he’d wake up in a sweat, shoulders trembling and heart pounding to a point that even Plagg’s presence couldn’t comfort him, he thought his mother left because of him.

(But, he’d reassure himself, that wasn’t true. She wouldn’t leave because of him. He was her son— _mon chaton, mon chaton_ —she loved him and his father, they were a family, she wouldn’t have just left. He hadn’t done something so terribly horrendous that she couldn’t bare the thought of him, of course not, because she was his mother and she loved him and she wouldn’t just leave… _right_?)

Regardless, three years hadn’t changed anything. His father wasn’t around, his mother was nowhere to be found, and he still wondered.

Gabriel sighed to himself and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Your mother is the reason I’m doing this.” The mention of her sent a shiver down Adrien’s spine. “If I collect the Miraculous from Chat Noir and Ladybug, then she can come home. We can be a family again.”

Adrien curled his hands into fists, biting his lip to refrain from punching a hole in the door at his father’s words. “I don’t understand. What does Mom have to do with any of this? Where is she?”

“She’s lost.” Gabriel turned around and locked his gaze with his son. “That’s all that matters.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I’m doing what I can to fix things. You could help me, you know, find a way to get—”

Adrien gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes in defiance. “I will _never_ help you.”

“Of course you can. You’re Chat Noir,” Gabriel asked, a slight rasp to his voice as if he couldn’t quite believe the idea himself.

Adrien was too stunned to respond, and his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach, faster than when he saw Ladybug fall thousands of feet from Rogercop’s vehicle back when the world still made sense. He couldn’t fathom how his father found out about his identity as Chat Noir because he had been _oh so careful,_ he had been _oh so sure,_ and yet all this time, Gabriel had known. Hawkmoth had known he was Chat Noir.

“H-How did you—?” he tried to ask, but the words caught in his throat.

“I saw your ring,” Gabriel said. “I had hoped that you weren’t, but… this helps in the grand scheme of things, I suppose. I didn’t want you to get involved, Adrien, I-I never did. I could have sent an akuma to you at any time, you were the perfect candidate at so many oppurtunities, but I don’t want to hurt _you_. I am doing this _for_ you…”

Adrien had never seen his father lose composure before, but as the man fell apart in front of him, he knew this was a night of many revelations. Gabriel broke out into a cold sweat with shaky hands and heavy breathes as he tried to explain his side of the story, as if to make Adrien “see reason.” But the whole encounter actually made things worse in Adrien’s mind considering that it meant his father knew _exactly_ what he was doing as Hawkmoth, despite the chaos and pain he spread, and he probably had no inclination to stop.

“Your little secret actually makes the issue easier to resolve anyway.”

 _That_ caught Adrien’s attention. “What do you mean? What issue?”

“You’re Chat Noir.”

“What issue?” Adrien tightened his grip on the railing, shifting his weight anxiously from his front foot to his back as he prepared to flee at a moment’s notice. Fear seized his heart because _oh god, oh god, his father knew who he was, Hawkmoth knew who he was, oh god._ “The one where you’ve been trying to kill me for the last year or the one where you’ve terrorizing innocent people for your own personal gain—”

“ _This is no selfish endeavor, Adrien!_ Are you even listening to yourself?” The butterflies’ flight path turned erratic as Gabriel’s voice boomed in the hollow space between them. “I am trying to bring your mother home. How is that for personal gain when it’s something you and I both want?”

“I want her back, you know I do,” Adrien protested, closing his eyes momentarily to relieve the burning sensation as the same tears that prickled whenever he thought about his mother sought to escape. “But not this way. You have other options: private detectives, newscasts, posters, just _something_ else that doesn’t involve hurting other people. _Mom_ wouldn’t want this!”

“It isn’t her choice anymore,” Gabriel said. “She lost it when she got _involved._ ”

Adrien’s breath caught roughly in his throat at his father’s words. “Did you do something to her?” Plagg bit him again, harder than ever before, but he couldn’t spare his kwami the slightest thought, not when his world was careening out of control like this.

Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as if he couldn’t understand his son, but then his whole body reeled back like he had been slapped, skittering back into the center of the room. The moonlight shined on his back, casting a menacing shadow over Adrien who stilled, despite Plagg’s insistence. “You honestly believe I would hurt your mother?”

“You hurt everyone else,” he said around the lump of fear in his throat. “You’ve hurt me. What’s to say you haven’t done the same to her?”

The butterflies _stopped._ They paused in midair, wings beating rapidly to keep them aloft, but refused to move closer to him. His father was silent as well. Adrien knew he had two choices as of that moment: he could either turn around and run as fast as possible—away from Hawkmoth and towards the safety of Ladybug and Plagg—or he could stay and try to reason with his father. If Gabriel truly was going through all this trouble for Adrien’s mother, then there had to be some reasoning with him, a certain plea that would make his father step down from the ledge he was walking alongside of. Perhaps there was still a chance to save him if he’d actually _listen_.

… _but when has he ever listened to you?_ Adrien thought against his bubbling hope, and that was when he knew that his decision had been made because, if his father had already fallen this far, then there truly was no coming back. No amount of reason could make a man with broken wings fly again.

“Mom,” he whispered, the name falling from his tongue thick like syrup but bitter and sharp. “Mom wouldn’t want this. _I_ don’t want this, and I will not help you.”

"Then," Gabriel said simply, “You leave me no choice.”

At his words, the butterflies soared towards him, encasing Adrien in a hurricane of white bodies and humming wings. He stared at them before one launched itself at his shoulder where Plagg was hidden. Rage bubbled up and spilled over before he could stop it, and he reached up and snatched the butterfly out of the air, crumbling it between his fingers. There was a keening shriek as the purple kwami hovering over his father collapsed against his shoulder, body vibrating in pain, and Adrien let go of the butterfly before he inflicted anymore damage. Gabriel spared his kwami a fleeting glance, hand coming up to cradle the poor creature, but not a flash of concern fell upon his stony expression. He didn’t care.

Bile rose in the back of Adrien’s throat at the thought of causing Plagg to suffer at his own hands, and he sent the purple kwami a silent apology, praying that he’d have a chance to reconcile with it someday. He shoved his way past the wall of white butterflies, closed the door in his wake, and ran into the dirt-streaked hallway of the west side of the mansion. Even without looking over his shoulder, he knew his father was quick to follow, the few butterflies that had managed to squeeze between the door before he’d closed it were at his heels already.

“Plagg,” he shouted. “ _Transform moi!_ ”

The kwami leapt into his ring, and he wrenched open a random door to what turned out to be a closet as the transformation washed over him. His power sparked at the tips of his fingers as he curled them around the top of the doorframe, and with a grunt, he planted his feet on the door and kicked it off its hinges—into the swarm of butterflies hovering on the other side of the barrier. Without pausing to look back, he tore off down the hallway and down the stairs, leaping off the wall and sliding down the banister. Gabriel’s footsteps grew louder as he gave chase, and Adrien only had one goal in mind: _get away, get away, get away now._

His mind glazed over in panic as he raced for his bedroom, intent on grabbing a duffle bag and leaving through his large windows. He knew his father would be adamant on avoiding any curious eyes, and Adrien wanted to avoid involving any staff that might be lingering around on the premise too.

“ _Adrien!_ ” Gabriel’s voice thundered past, reverberating down the hallway, as he skittered around a corner, his claws digging deep gauges in the hardwood floor. “Don’t make me do _this!_ ”

There had never been a way to reason with his father, so he didn’t intend on stopping now to try. Adrien cursed himself for not leaving earlier, not listening to Plagg’s warnings— _stupid, so stupid_ , he wasn’t safe here.

“Adrien—I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Leave me _alone!_ ”

Adrien turned another corner only to come to a thundering halt at the sight of a wall of butterflies his path. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as a chill raced down his spine, a dark chuckle filling the corridor as he searched desperately for an escape route. Something in his head was screaming at him to _turn left, go left, Adrien, left, left,_ a constant keen that sounded like Plagg, so Adrien turned on his heel and dove to the side, barely missing the swing from his father.

“Give me your Miraculous, Adrien.” Gabriel’s deep voice spilled out from behind him, but Adrien fought the urge to turn around and face him. He leapt through an open doorway and into a different corridor, ducking into a side staircase, and bolted towards an all-too familiar room.

Once he had reached his bedroom, he threw caution to the wolves and scoured the small staircase, calling upon _Cataclysm!_ to wrench the bookcases off the wall. They toppled over the railing, one by one, and he pushed them over the skateboard ramp to block his father’s way into the main part of his room. Once the blockade had been established, he dug a duffle bag out of his closet and shoved what toiletries, clothing, and money he could into the pockets before throwing it over his shoulder. He opened the window and froze.

Perched on the edge of the windowsill, his father bellowing at the closed door behind him, Adrien was at a loss. All he knew was that his father was Hawkmoth, he couldn’t stay in his own home anymore, and he needed to tell Ladybug what had happened. He pulled the baton off of its holder on his back and leaned forward, rolling onto his haunches, and prepared to jump out onto the rooftops of Paris. He needed to leave, but suddenly he realized, he didn’t know where to go.

What were the chances Ladybug would be out on patrol at this time? It was only early evening, and besides, it was his turn to run patrol tonight. His breathes came out in little gasps as he started panic, unable to think straight as his father grew louder from behind the door, and his grip on the duffel bag tightened. It didn’t matter where he went, he decided, so long as he got out of here.

Without a second thought, he launched himself into the Paris nighttime.

(He really should have accepted Marinette’s invitation).


End file.
